He twisted the crank until the flywheel clicked tight. Then stepped back and clipped the handle one more time and dropped his hand. The engine turned and caught and the handle came to a stop. That first flip could break an arm. He got back in the car and pressed the throttle lever up and drove around the Casino, raising dust in the airless dusk and scattering guests as he went. The storms over Washington held and he guessed there would be no rain this evening. Or perhaps late, when the sheet lightning came down broad in strokes of orange and green, purple and blue. He liked those storms. I’m maybe an idiot he thought, but I’m sure as shit not stupid.

At the Sinclair he spoke to his bartenders, sat in the small office and wrote out a beer order and another for cigars and cigarettes. Read through the notes in the bar ledger. Studied a single time card. Went out to the service end of the bar and leaned there until a particular waiter came up, a man older than himself with damp drooping ovals staining his shirt under his arms, his tray wet with beer froth. Empty glasses.

“Evening, Mister Pelham.”

Jamie nodded. “Henley.” Then, “Problem last night?”

Henley had red ears that stood out like exit lamps. “No sir. Not much. Had to ask a man to leave.”

“A man to leave,” Jamie repeated.

“That’s right. He was bad drunk, stinking. Mad at the world. Didn’t like the beer, didn’t like the cigars, didn’t like the whiskey. Didn’t like anything. Sitting alone there in the back. The gentlemen around him, I could see they were uncomfortable with him. And he poured a beer on me.”

“That right?”

Henley nodded. “Said it was skunk piss. Asked me how I liked the smell of it.”

“And?”

“I asked him to leave.”

Jamie inclined his head toward the bartenders. “You get Jake or Stanley involved?”

“No sir. I didn’t see a need.”

Jamie nodded. “So you asked him to leave.”

“That’s right.”

“And he left?”

Henley wet his lips. He was still holding the tray out beside his body, the arm supporting it beginning to vibrate with the effort. “He did leave. I had to assist him some.”

Jamie nodded again, as if interested. “What was that?”

“Mister Pelham?”

“What sort of assistance did you provide?”

“I took him by the arm.”

“And he left then?”

“He wanted to fight me. Broke away and put up his fists.”

Jamie smiled. “That right?”

Henley smiled back. “It is.”

“What happened then? You don’t look scuffed up.”

“I told him he touched me once I’d pound him into the ground.”

“You told him that.”

“I did.”

“And he left then?”

“Took his hat up off the table and put it on, the rim soaked with beer, and shook his finger at me. Told me he’d hang my rear out to dry and left.”

“Ass.”

“Sir?”

“It was your ass he said he’d hang to dry. Not rear.”